


Read Me to Sleep

by rizcriz



Series: tumblr is dying time to get compiling [22]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizcriz/pseuds/rizcriz
Summary: Prompt: who reads to who?





	Read Me to Sleep

“Why are you walking around with Quentin’s raggedy copy of Fillory and Further?”

Eliot sighs, looking down at the book tucked under his arm and turns towards Margo. “He’s got the flu, and the new bullshit rule about not using magic to send illness’ to other students means he has to ride it out.”

She perks an eyebrows as she blows on her nail, “And that answers my question how?”

“You know exactly why I have his book, Bambi. Today’s not the day to be difficult.”

She hums thoughtfully before shrugging and looking up at hums pointedly, “Maybe. But then you’d have to actually admit you’re in love with him. Because you are.”

“We’ve been over this —“

“I am the one person you can’t lie to, love.” She pushes up from the chair, and grins up at him as she casts a spell to quick dry her nails. “And we both know you wouldn’t read that dribble to him unless you loved him.”

Eliot scoffs, “I’ve read to you—“

“Glamour magazine during fashion week doesn’t count.” Eliot frowns as she pats his shoulder delicately. “He’s sick, El. At least he can’t run away.”

“I —“

“Ugh,” she groans with a roll of her eyes as she walks past him into the kitchen. “Go read to the sick pumpkin. I’ll make some tea and meet you up there.”

“You will?”

She tosses a look over her shoulder, “Might slip a little something into it, obviously.”

“Don’t, we just got to the good part —“

“You’re enjoying it?” She laughs turning around, “you’re enjoying Fillory and Further?” Before he can respond, she points a red nail at him accusingly, “no. You’re not enjoying the book. You’re enjoying his reaction to the book!”

Eliot blanches, sighing as he leans against the doorway. “He’s like a sick puppy.” He murmurs.

She chuckles, “and we know how much you love those.”

“We agreed to never speak of Gerald again.” He sighs again, “And I’ll admit, it’s cute. When he gets all jittery when the children are in danger. And when the medicine kicks in and he insists he’s not tired and for me to keep reading even as his eyes get all —“

Margo shoves a cup of tea into his hands. “Go.”

Eliot casts a quick spell to keep the tea from spilling over and looks her over warily. “What?”

“Go read to your sick puppy.”

“Did you spike the tea?”

She shrugs a shoulder, coy. “I guess you’ll just have to give him the tea and find out.”

“Bambi…”

She sighs frowning. “You’re no fun when you’re in sad, mopey unrequited love mode.”

“I—“

“Even if it’s as mutual as is physically possible.”

“Annnd, I’m done with this conversation.” He shakes his head at her as he turns around and heads through the living room to head upstairs and to Quentin’s room. He shuts the door softly behind him, smiling gently as Quentin’s puffy eyes peek out from beneath the duvet. “You ready for chapter six?”

Quentin nods, scooting up to sit against the headboard, a dazed look across his face. His nose is red and irritated, and he’s got wrinkles in his skin from the fabric of the blanket. Eliot chuckles, handing the tea to him and casting a quick spell to ease the redness.

“Scoot over, bed hog.”

Quentin sniffles but obliged as he moves to the side of the bed so Eliot can sit next to him. “Did you make this?” He asks as he takes a sip of the tea.

“Mm, no. Margo did.” Quentin spits the tea out, spraying it over the bed and looks up at Eliot with panicked eyes. “Fair enough,” Eliot murmurs with a laugh as he takes the cup and sets it on the bedside table. “Get comfortable because, as I recall, shits about to hit the fan.”

Eliot tried to ignore the way his heart suddenly beats against his chest as Quentin curls up against his side. But that’s really the way of life, these days. And ignoring how Quentin makes him feel gets easier as much as it gets harder.

***

A week later when Quentin’s feeling better, and Margo sees him traipsing through the physical kids cottage with a couple copies of GQ and Men’s fashion, Eliot nowhere to be seen, she just shakes her head and flips to the next page of her magazine.

They’d figure their shit out eventually. Even if it takes passing the flu back and forth for eternity.


End file.
